It wasn't long after the funeral that mom decided to tell me. She sat me down at the kitchen table, with tear filled eyes.
"Sit down honey." She said, sniffing back the tears. "I got something I need to tell you." And she eased her self back into the chair in front of me.
At this point I was panicking, wondering what I had done now. I had never been the best daughter in the world – I was forever getting into trouble at school for skipping and being mischievous with the girls. I had started skimming through my brain as to what it might be this time, but I came up blank. I dismissed the thought that it was anything I had done at school – mom would never be this upset about anything I had done. It wasn't like I ever beat anybody up, it was always minor things like getting into huge arguments with other stuck up girls at school, or like the time when Angelina Houston had snogged my boyfriend behind my back. This time, mom looked really upset.
"What is it mom?" I said, breaking the two minute silence we had fallen into.
She sighed a quiet moan. "It's your father."
Ah. So it was about dad. My father had died a few weeks previous and she wasn't really coping with the situation. It hit us all pretty hard considering it was out of the blue. He had died in a horrific car accident, and I never really liked to dwell on that part of the story. I tried to get the picture of him in that state out of my mind now, by shaking my head.
"I know, mom. We're all still really upset about it. It was horrible." I said trying to console her, feeling my own tears starting already.
"It's not that." She spluttered and then broke down.
What? Not dad? Now I was extremely confused.
"Mom, I don't understand?" I tried to comprehend what the hell she might be going on about. Mourning did cause mom to go a bit loopy sometimes.
She didn't look up at me or talk to me, she just shoved a piece of white paper, folded, over to me.
I opened it and sat there, reading it and reading it until it went in.
I knew I wouldn't be able to tell you myself, so I wrote it in a letter.
I will tell you now that I am ashamed of my self to this very day that I hadn't told you sooner.
Our dearly beloved Nathan was not your biological father.
I know you will always think of him as a true father to you; he brought you up since you were the young age of two.
He is definitely without a doubt Giselle's father, and it is such a shame he couldn't be yours too.
I didn't know your real father very long, and when I found out that I was pregnant with you, I tried to track him down again to tell him. Little did I know that he hadn't told me his real name in the first place. He told me that his name was Curtis Jones.
I spent a good two months trying to look for him back in Los Santos, but in the end I gave up and packed my things to go back to your grandparents house instead.
Your grandmother was horrified and gave me a good telling off at first and so I went back to Los Santos, but then she could see how much emotional pain I was in and soon joined me. I thought your father was the love of my life, and did for a long time after I had gone back home.
When I met Nathan he was a Godsend. He did everything for us and I slowly fell in love with him. He was truly the best man I had ever met, and the best father there ever could be.
I will not be surprised if you never want to speak to me again, and this must be very confusing for you, sweetheart. I should have told you years ago.
I Love you Kiera
Once I was sure that it had all gone in to my head, I looked up and over at my mother. She was staring at me now, trying to read my face and my emotions. She looked ever so frightened of me, like I was suddenly going to lunge over the table at her and eat her alive.
Sure I was mad, but part of that anger was because my brain was so confused and frustrated with this new piece of information. I was also deeply saddened, and it made my grief for poor Nathan all the more intense. That man had taken on my mother and me and looked after us like we were his own. Wow, I thought. If only now I could tell him how grateful I was. I wiped away a slow tear before I spoke.
"Wow." Was just about all I could get out at first. My hands were shaking furiously and the paper in my hand was wobbling about.
"I know this is a lot to take in, honey. Just take a deep breath." Mom finally said to me.
I kept looking backwards and forwards from the note and to my mother. This was so weird, and I didn't quite know what emotion to fix on.
"This is weird. How could Nathan not be my father. He was there all my life!" I managed to whisper.
"Sweetie, you were two years old when Nathan came into our lives. You probably don't even know life without him. Trust me on this though, he was a life saver. Eventually your grandparents had to go back home and I was left on my own with a young baby. They decided when you were three months old that enough was enough and we moved over to Chicago with them. I struggled to find my own flat but we did get one. And boy was it hard being a single mom. If it wasn't for Nathan's help, I don't know where we would've been." She said to me.
This was all becoming more and more real. Of course Nathan wasn't my father. My mother and I were both darker than my sister, because she was mixed race. Of course I was darker – my real father must have been black too. Nathan was Caucasian and of English decent.
I suddenly felt a pure pang of hatred for my younger sister. It wasn't fair that she knew her father. But then again, her father was now dead.
I sighed and slumped back into my chair.
"Is there any information you have at all on my real father?" I hated having to say the word real all the time, like Nathan was only a fairytale.
"Just an address that my old friend Mae sent me in a letter when you were three years old. She said that she had been at her new boyfriend's house and seen your father walking into one opposite. She said that she saw him frequently going in and out of there and said that it must be his house. At this point, though, I already had Nathan in my life. I didn't need to track him down." She sighed.
At that point, Giselle came into the kitchen from being upstairs in her room.
"What's going on?" She asked, her gorgeous face looking confused as she took in our expressions.
"Just some serious talk." Mom said to her. "Nothing you need to worry your self about." She smiled up at Giselle.
She wasn't fooled though, she kept her eyes locked on my face.
"What's wrong, Kiera?" She asked, welling up herself.
"Nothing, nothing." I muttered, getting up to hug her. "Just boy problems again." I said, the sound muffled as my face was tucked against her top.
It wasn't just nothing though, because my mind was whirring around so fast I felt dizzy. I felt someone put something in my back pocket.
"I'm going upstairs." I finally said when Giselle let go of me. "I need to think."
I quickly ran past them, barely able to control the tears spilling from my eyes. Downstairs I could here mom and Giselle talking about something, though I couldn't make it out as it was muffled.
I sat on my bed and opened up what mom had shoved in my back pocket of my jeans. It was another letter. It only had one line. An address.
13 Grove St. Ganton, Los Santos, San Andreas, USA.